My Heart Belongs to You (Medieval Romance Trilogy Book 3) (23 page)

Looking at him, Ysabelle did not move for several long moments. She saw him studying her, his dark gaze intent upon her face, his powerful body tense. Anger pulsed on the air, a tangible emotion she could actually feel as it rushed from him to her.

“You are controlled in your fury, I can see that,” she said. “Yet, I have been told you often unleash your rage on others, and heaven help those who stand in your way.”

“I unleash my anger in battle, against men armed for war. I do not attack women and children. I willna attack you, Ysabelle.”

She didn’t understand why, but she believed him.

Stepping around him, she walked past the numerous armed guards and back to the safety of the great hall. Inside, she did not pause to sample the meal being spread on the long tables by the servants. The soldiers took their food in shifts, eating only enough to fill their bellies, and nothing extra. She had heard Nicholas give orders to Cook. Nicholas would not allow gluttony during a time of siege and Ysabelle approved of his decision. It was what her father would have done.

She raced upstairs, stopping beside Ada’s pallet to see that the woman was staying out of trouble. The old woman snored softly and Ysabelle was relieved. She didn’t know if she could protect the handmaiden should she attack Nicholas again.

Ignoring the lord’s chambers, Ysabelle went to her old room and stripped the dress from her body and stepped into the shallow tub of water Genevieve had prepared for her. Though she did not fear a lack of water, it might be the last bath she could enjoy for some time to come. Fuel was another matter. Praise the saints. it was spring and the frigid winter had finally passed. But they still needed fuel to cook with. Because they were situated along the river, it kept their wells filled. But there were no trees inside the bailey.

Leaning her head back, she clenched her eyes shut, wishing she could forget her troubles. Soon, the English would attack the castle. She thought of the food items they had stored away and hoped it would be enough to outlast the siege. If not, she shuddered to contemplate the outcome.

Chapter Thirteen

A single tallow candle lit the room. Ysabelle eased herself back against the high rim of the bathing tub, letting the lukewarm water soak her weary body.

The day was yet early and she could relax before going downstairs to complete her chores. Closing her eyes, she sighed with pleasure. She heard the door open and the tread of soft footsteps upon the thick rugs covering the stone floors.

“I wish to be alone, Genevieve. I won’t be long,” she said.

“There’s no need to hurry,” a masculine voice reached her ears.

Opening her eyes, Ysabelle gasped. Nicholas!

He leaned over her, his nose almost brushing hers. He didn’t smile, but she caught a twinkle in his expressive eyes and detected a playfulness in him she’d never noticed before.

“I’d like to be alone,” she said.

“You’re in the wrong room, my lady. Our chambers are down the hall. Why have you come here?”

She didn’t know what to say. She was reticent to share a room with him that had recently belonged to her beloved father.

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” she hedged.

She’d pulled her hair high upon her head. He reached up and twined a finger around one, long curl.

“Your neck is long and regal, your skin translucent and lovely.” He leaned toward her.

She shivered at his words. No one had ever said such things to her.

Their breath mingled as he kissed her lightly. She tried to pull away, but he placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head, until his mouth slanted over hers. Sharp desire crashed over her with an intensity that left her breathless.

“You are worth far more than Sutcliffe,” he said.

She frowned. “I doubt Lord Marshal would agree with you. I suppose you refused to hand me over to him?”

Nicholas hesitated. Now would be the right time to advise her that Malcolm still lived and still claimed she was his wife. But Ysabelle had her hands wrapped around his neck, her cheek against his chest, just beneath his chin. She soaked his shirt, but he didn’t care one bit. She was pliant in his arms as he lifted her from the tub and carried her to her bed. He couldn’t bring himself to destroy the moment with unhappy news.

“Lord Marshal understands we are wed and I will not leave Sutcliffe,” he said.

“They will fight you,” she whispered against his lips.

“And they will lose.”

“You are very confident.”

She drew back and he sought her gaze.

“Do you doubt me?” he asked.

She didn’t reply, and there were no more words as he kissed her again. He made sweet love to her, knowing he had broken through almost all her barriers.

Except her heart.

Later, he held her in his arms while she sobbed. Her tears wet his neck and tore at his soul like cruel talons.

“What is it, sweeting? Why do you cry?” he asked.

Shaking her head, she turned away from him without answer. Her shoulders trembled and he was at a loss how to ease her misery. Staring up at the dark ceiling, Nicholas thought he would rather face her anger.

Finally, she slept, and Nicholas breathed with relief even as he heard the soft drumbeat of raindrops falling from the angry sky. It was a good omen. Rain would flood the English trenches and cause cave-ins so they could not burrow beneath the castle to collapse the outer wall. The English would have slippery mud to work in and make little headway in their plans for siege.

Nicholas smiled grimly. There would be no battle today. Easing from Ysabelle’s side, he breathed a sigh of relief. Though he longed to stay with Ysabelle, he rose from the bed and dressed in quiet haste. He would use this interlude while he had the chance. The spring storm would give him time to send Father Edward on a critically important mission.

*

Ysabelle woke with a start. The room was dark and she could hear the soft patter of rain striking the roof. For a moment she lay still, covered in warm furs, feeling languid and content.

She remembered Nicholas’s kisses and realized her heart was now entwined with his. When she thought of loving him, it brought her so much sadness that she could do nothing more than cry. Even now, before he was killed, she mourned his death. It was inevitable. Having recently lost her beloved father, she doubted she could stand to lose Nicholas, too. And yet, how could she tell him the reason for her tears?

Her gaze slid to his side of the bed, but she saw no man lying in the shadows beside her. Bright light pierced the blackness of the narrow window and the boom of thunder split the heavens above. No doubt the storm had woken her.

She sat up and slid her feet to the floor, then hurried to pull the shutters closed. Shivering, she crossed the room, searching in the dim light for her dressing gown. She shrugged into it as she looked at the rumpled bed and saw it was indeed empty. No doubt Nicholas had gone to keep watch with his soldiers.

Her stomach rumbled hungrily and she realized she hadn’t eaten since the day before. Slipping on her shoes, she draped a shawl over her shoulders and stepped out into the passageway and descended the spiral stairs. The great hall was empty except for a handful of men who slumped against the walls or lay sleeping along the benches. A lone man with light-colored hair sat at the table, eating a cold meal of bread, meat, and cheese. He wasn’t large enough to be her husband and she drew near.

Peering through the shadows, she was grateful for the bright light from the large fire. To conserve on resources, the candles and torches had been extinguished. Again, Ysabelle was impressed by Nicholas’s resourcefulness.

“Ah, Lady Ysabelle. Come join me,” Alex smiled when he turned and saw her.

Squeezing her hands together, she frowned. Reluctant to answer any of the man’s usually persistent questions, she went to sit next to him as he offered her a cup of wine. Perhaps Alex might disclose a bit of insight so she could understand her husband more.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” she whispered.

“You’re no bother,” he assured her. “Are you hungry?”

At her nod, he tore off a piece of crusty bread and handed it to her, then scooted his own trencher close so she could sample chunks of tangy cheese.

“I suppose the storm awakened you?” he asked as he considered her in the firelight.

“Yes, I had forgotten where I was.”

He smiled. “Do storms trouble you?”

“Not usually. I love the smell of washed earth and I enjoy walking in the rain.”

His brows lifted at this and he grinned. “Truly? Perhaps you can teach Nicholas to take pleasure in such things.”

“I believe your brother takes pleasure in very little.”

“He takes pleasure in you, sweet lady, and I am pleased to see him so happy.”

“Happy?” She shook her head. “That isn’t a word I would choose to describe the Scots Ram. He rarely smiles.”

She remembered the few times she had seen him smile with dazzling clarity. It made her wish he weren’t so severe.

“As time passes, he will do so more often,” Alex said.

She frowned with doubt.

“You’ll come to know him better verra soon,” he assured her. “Nicholas has difficulty showing joy, but I can tell he is verra happy to have you for his wife. He will smile more, you will see. He willna be able to help himself.”

She scoffed as she popped a piece of apple into her mouth and chewed. “More likely, he is happy to have Sutcliffe and all her rich lands.”

“He doesn’t care about wealth, though he is happy to have a home. Don’t judge him too harshly. He will learn to smile, if you teach him.”

Teach him? Confusion fogged her mind. How could she teach such a harsh man to smile?

“I fear Lord Marshal won’t give us time,” she spoke in a pensive tone, her thoughts filled with foreboding.

“I have seen my brother face much worse situations,” Alex told her. “Do you fear he won’t be able to defend you?”

“Right now, I don’t know what to believe.”

She only knew what Nicholas made her feel. Rapture. Light. Dread. Her husband was an enigma and she didn’t understand him at all. Dare she confess he enthralled her? He brought her pleasure, yet she feared his dark side more than anything.

Rising from the table, she stepped to the doorway and peered out into the night. “The rain has stopped.”

“Perhaps it will rain again tomorrow. Nicholas thinks it is a good portent. It keeps the English from advancing their siege against us.”

“Ah, well then, I will go to the chapel later and offer a prayer that the storm might continue.”

“Where do you go now, my lady?” Alex questioned her when she stepped outside into the dark. “It’s late and you should return to your chamber and sleep.”

“I won’t be long. I desire a short walk around the yard while there is no catapult to fear.”

He started to stand up and she feared he might accompany her. “I’m going alone. I’ll be safe.”

He sat back down, looking slightly dejected. “Don’t go far. Nicholas becomes nervous when he doesn’t know where you are.”

She almost laughed. Men could be such controlling creatures. Instead, she nodded and hurried away, feeling exhilarated to be free. Outside, she was surprised at the activity in the bailey. Though it was night, armed men stood guard, watching her silently as she walked across the yard. Their expressions were grim and rain dripped from their beards. They looked wet and cold as they hunkered back in the shadows, clutching their weapons close. They were stalwart as they nodded respectfully to her and Ysabelle loved them for their loyal service.

“How goes the siege?” she asked Thomas when he greeted her.

His gaze dropped away. “The lookouts have reported that, before the storm, the English burned many cottages and fields.”

Ysabelle gasped, her fingers tightening around the folds of her shawl where she clutched it closed at her throat. Her heart squeezed painfully. It was just as she had feared. The English would harrow the land.

“But don’t fear, my lady. Lord Nicholas has said we will rebuild anything the English destroys. He promised our people they wouldn’t be alone in this, and that they would always have sanctuary within the walls of Sutcliffe. He said we must hold against the English, to teach them it is futile to meddle along our border. Only then will we have peace.” Thomas gave her a reassuring smile. He sniffed and wiped a drop of moisture from his red nose.

Ysabelle was surprised at Thomas’s confidence. They could rebuild homes and plant crops. But they could never recover from the loss of one precious life. Still, it touched her deeply that Nicholas had reassured her people and offered them hope. Thomas’s admiration was obvious and she knew he spoke for the other warriors also. Her men respected the Scots Ram and believed in him. Nicholas reminded Ysabelle more and more of her father. It was as if Maston’s spirit resided here with them now, guiding them in what they should do.

Reaching out, Ysabelle squeezed Thomas’s arm fondly. “Nothing defeats your spirit, does it, Thomas? Although it will be crowded, our people can live here at the castle until they are able to rebuild new homes. But the crops! What will we do for food next winter?”

Thomas’s chin tightened and his eyes narrowed. “We will have food, my lady. If the siege ends soon enough, Lord Nicholas has said there will be time to replant. I have seen the land recover from field fires. In fact, the crops are often even more bountiful after a burning.”

“Then, I will pray even harder that this siege doesn’t last long,” she said.

With a firm nod, Thomas turned and went back to his post. As she walked to the stairway and climbed up to the battlements above, Ysabelle didn’t envy the men their duties. It was her favorite place in the whole world.

The wind stole her breath, but it invigorated her as well. Looking about, she could see most of the surrounding area from her vantage point. The glistening river as it meandered around the castle and off across the countryside, and the shadowed shape of the tall trees in the forest. The shadowy specter of the charred fields made her suck in a sharp breath. Her blood pounded with fury at this needless devastation. King William and his demands! Like her father, she would never give in to such tyranny. The English would have to take Sutcliffe by force. And it was then that she decided to support Nicholas at all costs.